


Hunting Shipwrights

by Dearing



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dearing/pseuds/Dearing
Summary: Darn this girl. Loving her is way too easy. F!Hunter/Amanda





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, alright! Let's see what we've got here.
> 
> This is another writing exercise fic, something I wrote to keep writing as my other projects stalled (See A Touch of Obsession for another example). It started out as a one shot musing on Zavala's name, and spiralled out from there. It's also my first try at a same sex pairing, so I hope it's a decent read.
> 
> Currently, it only covers the Red War arc, but if inspiration comes, I might think to write more beyond that.
> 
> Two things to remember, going in:
> 
> I haven't played Destiny 1 (I only got into Destiny when Destiny 2 showed up on Playstation Plus), so any and all information from that era has been looked up from wiki pages and youtube vids. I apologise in advance for any and all inaccuracies this creates.
> 
> I've edited some of the more game-centric elements out, and made guesses on exactly how long the Red War went on for. While I appreciate and encourage constructive criticism, please don't point these out.
> 
> Alright, that's all from me. Updates will be every Friday until finished. Word count is just over 11,000, so prepare for short chapters.

**ONE**

It's not normally a shipwright's business to be nosey.

Keep your head down, do the work and go home happy. It's what she tells every one of her work crews, especially the more gossip hungry ones. No sense in concerning yourself with the affairs of Guardians when Sparrows need calibrating and NLS Drives need repair.

Sometimes though, she's a bit of hypocrite. Sometimes, little snippets of conversation travel across the hanger, and pique her interest more than a current project.

The good ones involve Guardians. The best ones involve the Vanguard.

Today, it involves both.

"She calls you what now?"

The three stop, Zavala, Ikora Rey and Cayde-6. Conversation halted, inspection forgotten.

Zavala stares, mouth still open, mid rant. Ikora hides a small smile. Cayde grins like an idiot, in that way that only the Exo can.

"Girl's Name." The warlock breaks first. "She calls him Girl's Name. "

She shouldn't laugh, shouldn't grin. She hides such things behind an oil-stained hand.

Cayde tries too. He's failing gleefully.

"So, like,  _a_  girl's name, or several girls' names or... "

She thinks she knows the answer. Ikora doesn't disappoint.

"No, no. Just...Just Girl's Name."

She tries. She tries  _really_ hard. She fails, a snicker escaping between her fingers.

Zavala rolls his eyes, even as Cayde lets his laughter fly.

"It is as unprofessional as it is demeaning. That she would call me such things behind my back is one thing, but to say it to my face, every meeting, and over open channels during Strike operations..."

Ikora smiles. Patiently, like a mother humouring a stubborn child. "It is term of endearment, clearly. Her way of showing she likes you."

"Yeah! What she said." Cayde nods vigorously, trying to shake the grin off his face. "Besides, There's guys in the War Cult that call you  _much_  worse..."

Zavala fixes the Exo a glare. The mechanical grin widens with ever withering second.

"...than Girl's Name."

A tired sigh from the Awoken. A patient shake of the head from the Warlock. And the Exo laughs at his victory.

She stares at the three of them, memories not matching up with new information.

"We're talkin' about Giddeon, right?  _Sarah_ Giddeon _?_ Hunter, about yay big?" her hand goes up, levelling out a half head above her own blonde locks. "Saladin's Little Wolf or somethin'?" She looks to Cayde." Didn't she help you borrow Eris' ship last year?"

Blue optics glance away, shifty under annoyed Vanguard looks. "I can neither confirm nor deny that that is a thing that happened."

"I've got an 'test flight' on my work schedule that can."

"It is the same, " Zavala intrudes before Cayde can, "but just because she is one of our best, does not excuse her actions."

"And yet, you allow her to continue."

"I allow nothing!" Ikora doesn't wither under his glare. "I ask her to stop, and she continues. I reprimand her, and she continues. I send her to Cayde to be disciplined..." the glare turns on the Exo, the voice a growl, "and he...encourages it."

A whistle passes through the hanger's relative silence, convincing no one of its sincerity.

The shipwright shakes her head. "I don't get it. How's a guy like Saladin put up with her? The guys got a stick so far up his ass he's spitting splinters."

"Perhaps there's is a different relationship." Cayde shudders and gags behind the Warlock. "A teacher and student, perhaps, or warriors who have found each other's respect on the battlefield."

"Or... You know..." The Exo shrugs, "maybe she just doesn't call him Girl's Name-"

"There is nothing feminine about my name!" Awoken eyes glow and bug out, skin pulsing with patterns of light. "It is a name I chose for myself! A symbol of my rebirth! Forged for a new beginning! And I can tell you,  _each_  and every  _one_ of you, that the name Zavala is  _not_  a girl's name!"

...

...

...

"Tess knows a Vala, don't she?"

"You know, I think she does? Dark haired gal, right? Always got some kind of get rich quick scam going on?"

Glowing eyes glower at the shipwright and Hunter that wear matching grins, but Zavala is the bigger man. He strides past without another word, nodding only to those who have the sense to get out of his way.

Ikora follows on behind at her own pace, a smile sent the shipwright's way, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

Cayde just gives her a wink and a rough shove to the shoulder she thinks is supposed to be endearing. He then tries to run for the nearest starship, only to turn mid-run when he catches Ikora's look, a thousand excuses on mechanical lips.

She watches them go, her mind still processing new information.

She doesn't know Sarah Gideon all that well. A couple of missions bring scant contact, but mostly the Hunter is seen from afar as she crosses the hanger in need of her ship for some mission on Mars or Venus or wherever.

Always with the mask, always with the hood up, always followed by her Ghost, as all Guardians are.

Nothing to make her seem like just another Guardian.

Except she's  _not_  just another Guardian, is she? The last of the Iron Lords took a shine to her, with that whole SIVA thing. Then there was that stuff out near Saturn, with the Hive and the Taken King...

Not bad for a Guardian found not so long ago in the snow drifts of the Cosmodrome.

Even Zavala, for all the moping, called her one of the best. And you didn't end a Hive God without people knowing your name.

Not that it's a shipwright's business, knowing the mind of a Guardian. Not when engines need repairs and sparrows need new coats of paint. She's not even sure why she turned her head. She might be great, and she might've come from nowhere, making the fact she's great a bit more interesting, but Sarah Gideon is still just another Guardian. One of thousands.

It's not normally a shipwright's business to be nosey. As fun as this moment has been, she puts Sarah Giddeon to the back of her mind and gets back to work.


	2. TWO

**TWO**

When the Red Legion comes, she's in the air before they can fire a second volley.

Once peaceful airspace becomes a battlefield, the Last City's walls made worthless by a fleet of armored warships.

She's a shipwright, an engineer. Not a fighter. Not a Guardian.

Her ship's cannons belch fire, cutting down down fighters and troop transports.

Looks like today she's all four.

It's messy and uncontrolled. She just wants to stay alive and get back to solid ground. Her hands are slick around control sticks, her fear drowned in adrenaline.

It will be fine. She just needs to stay alive. Keep in the air until Zavala can put a plan into action.

Watch as the Cabal's machine sinks its' claws into the side of the Traveler.

" _Holliday, what's your status?"_ The commander's voice is a beacon of calm on a chaotic battlefield.

"Still in the air. Somehow." A transport tries to get in her way, pluming into orange fireball with a pull of her triggers. "Where d'ya need me?"

" _The North Tower. Giddeon is making her way up. Get her to the flagship, quick as you can."_

She doesn't question, doesn't ask how in blue blazes Zavala thinks she can get one Guardian through this mess of an airspace to the most heavily defended hunk of metal this side of the Solar System, and that something good will come from getting her there.

Zavala has a plan. That's all she needs to know.

And he's sending Giddeon.

She gets there. Somehow. Her ship is pitted and scared with shrapnel and she swears the port thruster has been complaining since the near miss with a Red Legion drop pod.

But she gets there, to the North Tower, where Giddeon is waiting for her.

And keeping busy.

Shipwrights don't often get to see Guardians in action. There's the Crucible, sure, and the Iron Banner when it comes to town, but there's always an element of performance there. No risk and all reward make for big shows and everyone plays their role to the point of cliché.

Titans are strong and brutal. Warlocks are elegant and graceful with their Light. Hunters are fast and sure footed, as quick with their minds as they are on their feet.

But here, on the battlefield, things are different.

Here, on the battlefield, Sarah Giddeon manages to be all three.

Cabal legionaries fall under rattling rifle fire. A phalanx finds his shields broken under a burst from a sidearm, a grenade stuck to his faceplate before he can be confused, snapping his neck back with the blast. His carcass is shoved aside by his 'comrade', only to have Giddeon's boot crush metal into his face as she uses it like a spring board, leaping over to plant a knife between helmet and armor and into the neck of the soldier behind.

A centurion rises from a drop pod, weapon at the ready, a solar shield flared to life around him. She wants to help, but she knows she doesn't need to. She watches Giddeon glow, a fiery hand cannon busting into being as she turns to face her final foe.

One shot. The shield breaks.

Two shots, the weapon goes flying, its barrel split in two.

Three shots, and the centurion falls back dead, his body fire and ash before he hits the ground.

"Holy cow."

She shakes off her awe, flooding the courtyard with light. The Hunter looks up at being bathed in white, body tense, rifle ready. Her Ghost, a silver sphere surrounded by a matching ring, dissipates into particles in a panic.

"Whoa, easy there Big Shot!" she smiles in relief as the rifle goes slack. "Someone told me you need a ride."

" _Only if You're going my way, Miss Holliday."_ A light voice crackles over her cockpit's speakers.  _"Shouldn't have to trouble you if you've got to make a special trip."_

"Just get on the damn ship, wiseass." She lets a tired smile spread as her ship banks and the rear hatch opens. Only when she hears a double thud against the bulkhead behind her does she seal the door and take off back into the chaos. "Zavala, picked up that Guardian you never shut up about-"

" _Heeey, Girl's Name."_

A long, drawn out sigh rumbles over the frequency, and she's not sure if it came from the commander or Giddeon's Ghost.

" _Get them on that command ship! Now!"_

The channel is cut before she can respond or Giddeon can wisecrack. The warship looms ahead, turrets blazing and trailing smog.

"Hold on back there!"

She doesn't wait for a response, gunning the engines and flying deeper into the firefight. Ahead, an ally lands a perfect hit, a Harvester transport erupting into flame and showering her ship in shrapnel.

Over it all, the Traveler watches silently, the Cabal machine latched to its side.

"Come on, big guy. Do something."

" _Don't think he heard you, Miss Holliday. Maybe if you open the window, scream and cuss a little?"_

She allows a wry smile. "You have to admit, you wouldn't say no to a little divine intervention, right?"

A shot a little too close to home cuts the conversation short. The command vessel dominates her view, hull shimmering with the light of its shield as she pulls her ship in close, barely skimming the energy field.

She finds her entrance, a drop pod deployment rack at the massive craft's rear.

"Alright, Giddeon! Time to kick 'em where it hurts!"

" _Ha! Like these guys have the balls!"_

It's the last time she sees her; dropping down onto the racks maintenance gangway and running full pelt into the ship and out of the rain. She shouts a few words of encouragement before anti-aircraft fire forces her away.

Let us know when the shields are down and we'll hit that ship with everything we've got.

It wasn't meant to be a lie, the Red Legion simply made it so.

When the shield came down, there was no one left. When the Cabal and their machine locked the Traveler away and stole the Light from the Guardians, they stole with it hope, and any fight left in a dwindling few.

And when they were forced off world, forced away from their home to a distant moon far from the Sun, Sarah Giddeon wasn't among the living.

Her heart ached with guilt, each and every waking moment.

And it was a long journey to Titan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giddeon's Ghost is using the Peerless Protection shell, without any shaders added. It's things like this that I was talking about when I was talking about editing more game-centric elements.
> 
> As chapters progress, I'll list equipment and weapon loadouts for any OC characters, just to give some flavour text.
> 
> That's all from me, hope you enjoyed!


	3. THREE

 

It's a vague memory, but she can remember the first time she saw Sarah Giddeon.

Skittish, jumpy, head darting to every little noise the hanger made, one hand almost subconsciously darting to the seal between helmet and neck piece, securing it a little every time.

She was afraid, Cayde of all people had told her when she'd asked. Barely a day or so reborn, no memories of before in her brain, no knowing how long she'd been dead. Afraid to see her own face, what might lie behind armor and visor.

She wasn't much to think about then. Only because she'd managed to reach the Tower in a ramshackle jumpship with no NLS drive and hadn't blown up between there and the Cosmodrome did she really remember the encounter at all.

But she does remember, and her small collection of such memories are all that currently plague her dreams.

She left her. She left Sarah Giddeon to die that day. She'd practically had to be dragged away from the Last City, kicking and screaming. To leave the Hunter, not to mention thousands of innocents, makes her sick to her stomach. She'd tried to delay, counter Zavala's arguments as she desperately tried to do… something. Anything.

And in the end, nothing.

Now, all that's left are her memories, and her brain clings to each fleeting moment when she sleeps. Visits to the hanger, silent admiration of the ships that came and went, that time during the Sparrow Racing League when she crossed the finish line all fire and barely flying (and hadn't  _that_  been a long repair job.).

A thousand little things, never more than a few words between them. The longest conversation she'd ever had with the Hunter was the day she applied for her Sparrow racing license. And now, lying awake in her bunk, it's all she can think about.

Not that there's much else to do.

Titan is a bust, the Hive overrunning anything and everything useful. Guardians drop like flies, trying to secure the Arcology. Zavala is moping, useless to everyone. Deputy Commander Sloane tries to hold things together, but morale is low. Nobody cares.

She shouldn't have left. She should have stayed near the Last City, been useful.

Back when she had here courage.

Here, she's angry, yet terrified. She's a shipwright, an engineer. Not a fighter. Not a Guardian. For a time, she was all four, and look where it got her. She lost people on Earth. She's losing people on Titan. She doesn't want to lose anyone else.

So she buries herself in her work; repairs, maintenance, things a shipwright should be doing. She averts her eyes as more Guardians are sent out, and tries not to think too hard when they don't come back.

It's just wasting time. She knows that. But she knows in her gut that without Guardians, without people like Giddeon, it's only a matter of time before it all ends anyway…

" _Vanguard Fleet, this is Guardian ship Seven-Two-three on approach. We received your beacon, and we're ready to join the fight."_

A Ghost's voice crackles over the radio she keeps by her bed, just to keep her in the loop more than anything else. It's not an odd thing to hear. Guardians were spread across the Solar System, and every so often another of the now Lightless fools trickle in, still eager to fight, somehow forgetting that now they've only got one life to lose.

" _Guardian ship, this is Zavala."_ The commander responds. Tired, despondent.  _"It's too late. The Hive have overrun Titan. I was wrong to bring us here."_

" _Commander, we're here to help."_

The Ghost is… insistent. It makes her roll over in her bunk, and frown at the radio.

Something stirs in her chest, telling her to listen. To dare to hope-

" _No!"_ Zavala angry. A rare thing to hear.  _"We've already lost too many Lightless Guardians to the Hive. We_ can't  _secure this moon."_

…

" _Gee, Girl's Name, and I thought your beacon was a Debbie downer."_

She bolts upright, eyes wide, heart beating rapidly in her chest.

It couldn't be. A voice she thought lost to the Legion, a voice she had sent to her death aboard that infernal ship. A voice that had been haunting her dreams since she left Earth orbit.

And yet…

" _But here's the thing,"_  the voice goes on, even as unknown to her a Shipwright was frantically finding clothes and reconnecting her prosthetic leg.  _"I didn't drag myself out of the City, get myself back on my feet and leave a grumpy girl in a poncho and her gentleman friend to defend Earth's refugees just to hear you gripe._

" _This is Sarah Giddeon. I've got my Light back. So you find me a target and let's get this thing done."_


	4. FOUR

**FOUR**

It takes Sarah Giddeon to get her flying again.

She doesn't want to. Just the thought of heading back into the fight had her shivering.

But Sarah Giddeon is alive, and retains her Light. While she complains and protests, all too quickly Sloane has her back in the air.

It's a simple mission; observe the Hive, guide Giddeon through the start-up process to bring power back to Siren's Watch. It should be simple; she doesn't even have to get close enough to use the jumpship's guns.

Her hands are still slick with sweat inside her gloves, and it's only a lifetime of training that keeps them steady on the control sticks.

That, and the voice in her ear.

" _We don't talk much, do we?"_

She can't see Giddeon right now, the Guardian somewhere below, knee deep in Hive and trying to figure out what's gunking up the pistons. She's been talking none stop though. About everything and nothing at the same time.

It's about the people, mostly. Those they left behind. Suraya Hawthorne needs a friend besides her hawk. Devrim Kay is henpecked by his husband. Shaxx is desperate to restart the Crucible, and he's trying to get her to run it using rubber bullets and redjacks. Tess Everis still manages to look fabulous, and still pays through the nose, the money grabbing little-

When Zavala tells her to stop broadcasting on an open channel, she switches to a private one. One only the shipwright can hear. It's for her benefit, she realizes. She's keeping her distracted, just enough to keep fear at bay.

And now she's been asked a question.

"Not been much to talk about," she admits. "I fix your ships, keep your Sparrows hoverin'…"

" _Keep me out of trouble with Girl's Name."_

"Since when?" If anything, she feels like she's been getting Giddeon  _into_  trouble, flashes of that last sight, of the Guardian running up the gangway into Ghaul's ship, rise from the depths of her troubled mind.

" _Well Sweet Pea, I kinda doubt he'd of let me leave the Tower in Eris Morn's ship for a stargazing tour."_

It brings a smile to her face, just a small one. "Fine. I fix your ships, keep your Sparrows hoverin' and keep you out of trouble with Zavala two words at a time. Not a lot of intersectin' for a Shipwright and a Guardian to start a conversation."

" _And yet you and Cayde are on a first name basis."_

"Cayde's only got one name, Big Shot."

" _And_ yet, _I don't hear you calling him Mr. –6, Sweet Pea."_

She snorts, but stops short as a hand cannon's boom crackles over her speakers. She doesn't speak until Giddeon's gun goes silent.

"Hey, you okay?"

" _Don't go changing the subject, Miss Holliday."_  She can hear the smirk in the Guardians voice.  _"Talk to me. Tell me stuff."_

"Shouldn't you be focusin' on what's going on in front of you?"

" _Like the hoard of death obsessed cultists standing between us and the circuit breakers?"_ Her Ghost adds, exasperated.

" _Through the power of multi-tasking, EyeBall, I can do both."_

She laughs. A short, sharp sound masked by the bark of a shotgun on the other end of the line. She stops, only because she can't remember the last time she had anything to laugh about.

The Red War, the evacuation, the hopelessness that had been cast over the fleet since reaching Titan. Nothing to laugh about. Nothing to even smile about.

And somehow, Sarah Giddeon has pushed through all that.

On the ground, the guns fall silent.

…

"Giddeon? You still with us?"

" _I'm still waiting for you to start talking, Sweet Pea."_

For the first time, she feels… self-conscious? What could she have to say that a Guardian would find interesting?

" _Amanda, just talk."_ Her own name causes a jump in her nerves, the sudden seriousness in Giddeon's voice sending a shiver down her spine.  _"Anything, everything. Tell me something I don't know, or something I do. Just talk, please."_

She sees it, just for a moment, and she realizes that Sarah needs this just as much as she does.

"Alright," she sweeps the perimeter before she begins. "My mother had a shotgun we called the Chaperone. Kept us alive out there before we got to the City…"


	5. FIVE

It occurs to her, as Siren's Watch spins and laughter drowns out all other sounds, that she's never seen Sarah Giddeon without her helmet.

It's not unusual. A lot of Guardians prefer to stay fully armored all hours of the day (There's a rumor Shaxx's head hasn't seen daylight since before the Last City had walls.). Guardians like the Vanguard were the rarities, although they would say the keep their faces free so people can pick them out of the crowds (And Cayde is just too ruggedly handsome to cover up. Apparently.).

Giddeon's visits to the hanger are… _were_  usually on the way to somewhere else. Even when she came to watch the ships, she would usually be heading for Phobos or The Reef or some other dark depth of the Solar System soon afterward. No point in heading out to work if you're not dressed for the part.

So when a tall blonde stranger in worn clothes is waiting for her at the bottom of her jumpship's ramp, it's not until she sees the silver sphere and matching ring of a Ghost hovering near her head, now looking tarnished after its' recent adventures, that she realizes Sarah Giddeon is…pretty.

And strong, judging by the way she can sweep a Shipwright off her feet.

Bright green eyes match a pearly white smile, set into a pale face framed by blonde hair down to the shoulders, a small bun tying up excess near the top of her head. She laughs as she takes her target under the arms, spinning her around like she weighs nothing at all.

It makes her giddy. Or possibly just dizzy.

"Hey, Giddeon! Easy now!" She's trying to be cross, for the people who are staring if anything else. It's hard to keep the embarrassed smile off her face. "You're happy to see me! I get it! Now put me down!"

The Guardian complies, only for a moment. A moment later and those strong arms have pulled her in close, into a hug just strong enough to keep her from getting away.

She smells of oil and earth, of the Tower and the world they call home. The Hunter's breath is cold on her neck, but she's warm, so very warm against the damp Titan air around them.

"I'm sorry," words muttered softly into her hair. "I just…when we lost contact, before I lost my Light, I thought…" a light squeeze as though afraid the Shipwright might disappear. "You've only got one life to give. I thought you'd lost it because of me. Because-"

Giddeon stops when she feels arms wrap around her back, resting flat against her shoulders.

Deep breaths, her nose pressed into the Guardian's shoulder. Old leather, the oil of old jumpships, the smell of rain from a now distant world.

Sarah Giddeon is here. She's alive. She has her Light.

When she feels her heart is calm enough, she pulls back to give the Guardian her best smile.

"Well, I guess we were both worryin' about nothin', right?"

The grin returns, and it sends a little thrill down her spine that Sarah catches on so quickly.

It's something she quickly forgets when she takes in what the Hunter is actually wearing.

Gone is the high tech armor, the fancy mask, even hood and cloak. Beige pants, walking boots and a rum red shirt take their place, a worn leather vest providing precious little protection to the chest and vital organs. A ramshackle hand cannon is strapped to her hip, looking like it's been built on the fly as pieces had been found. The shotgun slung across her back looks relatively better; field-forged and well used before its current owner.

"Did you really fight your way out of a Hive infested Arcology dressed like that?"

The Guardian's smile becomes a sheepish one. "Would it sound better if I fought the Cabal and the Fallen dressed like this too?"

A Shipwright's sigh can apparently be a long one. Arms untangle, but hands intertwine. She ignores the whoops and wolf whistles from her technicians, half dragging the bewildered Giddeon away from the landing pads.

"Come on, Big Shot, let's see if we brought anythin' with us that might make you a bit more Hunter-y."


	6. SIX

It's amazing what ends up in the Tower's vaults. It's even more amazing the kind of things people take in their hurry to evacuate. Eva Levante may be missing, and Banshee-44 might be wandering around somewhere, but in their absence is a pile of unclaimed loot from which a Shipwright can outfit her Guardian friend.

It is, admittedly, a bit of a hodgepodge. A pilot's greaves and armored boots up to the knee, both in black and faded white. Gauntlets left over from the last Iron Banner, shaded in tarnished silver. A chest piece that might have been found by a mad monk on Mercury, a triangle of blue glowing faint in its' core.

And of course, the cape.

"Cloak," Giddeon corrects for xteenth time. "Superheroes wear capes. All flash and no purpose, those guys."

Sarah Giddeon is definitely a Hunter. Dozens of bits of cloth sweep around her shoulders and get cast off just as quickly. Different colors, different lengths, full cloaks, half cloaks, off the shoulder, around the neck, almost brand new and fraying at the edges.

In the end, she's surprised when simplicity wins out. Sarah grin as she admires a long strip of black that falls down to her calves, off her shoulders, the hood hidden from view. It's thick enough to keep the cold out, but light enough on the shoulders that it won't stifle in heat.

"You know, I've never gotten the obsession." She picks at the cloth, reluctantly admiring how sturdy yet soft it feels in her fingers. "I mean sure, y'all look great, but this is just a turbine away from a messy end, you kn-"

Warmth envelopes her, sturdy yet soft material wrapping around shoulders and torso and over her head. It pulls them close, body to body, an arm across her back keeping her pinned.

Cheeks flush, heart pounds. Sarah Giddeon smiles, eyes warm, eyebrows raised.

Through a caught breath, she manages a red faced grin. "Alright. Point taken."

Head tilts, before eyes close with an easy shrug. The cloak falls away, and the universe feels all the colder as the Guardian steps back out of her personal space.

She distracts herself from such thoughts, searching through the piles for the final armor piece. "Alright, just got to find you a helmet and you're good to go."

"No, I think I'm good."

It's the tone that catches her off guard; forced disinterest, nonchalance. She turns to see Giddeon does have her eye on something, a simple helmet, a large dark faceplate the only real thing of note. The Guardian frowns at it, eyes not really focused, troubled by something only she can see.

"Talk."

The dream breaks. The Hunter blinks at her owlishly.

"About wh-"

"There's a reason. Spill it."

"I don't-"

A Shipwright might not be as strong as a Guardian, but a hand snakes up, grabbing the stunned Hunter by the back of the neck and dragging her down, forehead to forehead.

"We ain't leaving until I know. Four years I've seen you around and not a second of it have you been without a headpiece." Her eyes soften. This close, she can see trouble clouding the green orbs across from hers. "Talk to me. Please?"

She lets the grip go slack, watches as Giddeon steps back, a bemused smile on her face, the tables turned.

"To be honest? It's kinda stupid. I mean it's not like I haven't died before, right?" Even in this day and age, that will always be an odd sentence. "But…when I came to, after I'd lost my Light, everything hurt. I couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything beyond the pain. All I knew was there was a wall barely an inch from my nose. I felt… trapped in my own armor, like I'd been buried alive. I ripped the damn thing off the moment I had any feeling in my limbs." The Hunter manages a watery grin. "I know I should wear it. I mean I'm just making myself a target if I don't, right?" She twists a lock of blonde hair for emphasis. "But…every time I try…"

She tries to stop the thoughts, a light touch on the Guardian's arm bringing a surprised look to Giddeon's face.

"You just got brought down to normal, Big Shot. First time in forever you've been vulnerable. Can't imagine it must've been easy, going up against gods and demons only to be shot down by a space rhino on a power trip."

"I feel like there's supposed to be a flash of inspiration in there somewhere."

"I'm saying that for normal folk? Thinkin' you've been buried alive is a normal thing to get scared about. So if we can be afraid, why can't you? Because you're a Guardian? Because you can come back from the dead? You're still Human. You get scared, and like every other intelligent being in the 'Verse, you've just to learn to not let it get the better of you."

Sarah looks…conflicted. Sloane's voice from the radio saves her from responding.

" _Giddeon, report back to the Command Center. The transmissions just finished decrypting, and we've got a problem."_

Eyes roll, blue and green.

"And like all things Cabal," Giddeon smirks, "it's probably a big one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nother divergence from gameplay, setting Sarah's armor in stone:
> 
> Gauntlets: Iron Fellowship Grips (Shader: The Mad Monk)  
> Chest Armor: Kairos Function Vest (Shader: Default)  
> Leg Armor: Vigil of Heroes (Shader: Avalon Teal (black and white))  
> Hunter Cloak: A Cloak Called Home (Shader: The Mad Monk (All black))
> 
> Loadout:
> 
> Primary: (Hand Cannon) West of Sunfall 7 (Shader: Can't remember, will update) (Asthetics only. In-story it's a hand cannon that Sarah found on her way out of the City that has kept her alive so far, and that she constantly tinkers with to improve.  
> Secondary: Hawthorne's Field Forged Shotgun (Not an energy weapon, I know, but I liked the idea that the shotgun she gives you during her introduction keeps you alive in the EDZ)  
> Heavy: None (Heavy weapons just feel too big and clunky for Sarah to have in addition to her normal weapons.)


	7. SEVEN

**SEVEN**

It takes her a while, but for a moment, Sarah Giddeon is back on Titan.

Because when the problem is a massive Sun destroying space station called the  _Almighty_ , such problems are rarely fixed so quickly.

But return she does, Cayde-6 in tow, and it scares a certain shipwright how easily seeing eases the tightness in her chest.

She doesn't know why she was worried. "I need Ikora and Cayde." Were the orders sent down by Girl's Na-…ah, Zavala. No  _Almighty_  just yet, so Giddeon had told her before she'd boarded the dilapidated Wanderwing that had somehow brought her here, a signal from the Exo's Ghost the only lead.

Considering the signal led to Nessus; a supposedly random rock crashing through the edges of the Solar System, it should have been an easy mission.

Considering what Giddeon brought back with her, there's probably more to it than either she or Cayde are saying.

"So wait, that thing you found does…what?"

Giddeon grins, eyes admiring the pulse rifle getting slick with Titan's rain. Sleek lines, black casing, the pale glow of Void light emanating from energized parts.

The Guardian catches her gaze through blonde bangs damp from the drizzle. Her pulse might have quickened if she hadn't spoken.

"It fires black holes."

She snorts. "No it doesn't."

"Oh yeah, it does. Tiny, bullet-sized black holes. EyeBall calls it a Graviton Lance."

She looks at the Hunter, then eyes her weapon, suddenly wary. "Did you tell Zavala?"

"Only that I found some weird gun in a Golden Age shipwreck on Nessus. And EeeBee was all ' _This_  is why we were led here…'"

"I most certainly was not!" her Ghost protests, only to wafted into Light particles by an absent hand.

She watches the exchange, an eyebrow raised. "Yours talks like that too?"

"What do you think?" Sarah shoulders the rifle, her head tilting towards the edge of the building with a daring, brilliant smile. "Wanna see it in action?"

That's why she was led out here, convinced to drop everything to climb a platform near the landing pads, just high enough to get a view of the Arcology without getting in the sights the Hive and Fallen making life miserable down below. Giddeon wants to show off her new toy like a kid at Dawning. She followed willingly, she reminds herself. No argument, no "l'm busy, can this wait?". Something in that smile made her put down her tools. Something in the Hunter's eagerness had made her shout to her colleagues that she was going on break, be back in an hour.

Sarah Giddeon had been gone a few days, and had been debriefing and planning with Zavala and Cayde most of the morning. That the local Shipwright is the first person the Hunter seeks out afterwards…she doesn't really know what to make of how that feels.

Giddeon is spotting through the scope, hood pushed back, ignoring the light rain against her skin and hair. She grins when she finds something; a skirmish happening not so far below.

A Hive Knight has gotten adventurous, leading Thralls in a run on the perimeter. There's no real problem. Even without their Light, the Guardians on duty are in no danger of being overrun.

Not that she doubts they would say no to a little help though.

"Hey, come here."

"W-what?" she blinks stupidly, and the Graviton Lance is pressed into her hands. She lets herself be guided to the edge, and flushes hard when she feels warm body and cold armor press up against her back. "What're you doing?"

Hands guide, putting stock to shoulder, fingers around the grip.

"Helping."

She feels hot for a completely different reason. "I know how to shoot."

"I know, Sweet Pea," gloved hands cover hers, her cheeks warm as the Guardian rests her head on her shoulder, "but this is more fun, right?"

She wants to argue, but she doesn't want Sarah to move. Her body is warm against the rain, her grip secure around her hands as they aim down the sights.

She remembers the breathing exercises her Mama taught her so long ago. Breathe in, count to three. Hold, count to three. Release, count to three.

The Thralls charge, screaming hoarsely, sharpened claws flailing everywhere.

"Aaand… boop!"

A head in her sights, Giddeon's breathe cool against her cheek. She pulls the trigger.

She only needs to do it once.

A purple bolt cracks through the drizzly air, striking the lead thrall, snapping its neck and forcing it to the ground.

And then…it explodes.

A sudden, violent thing. The body contorts and glows, crushed into a vibrant ball of purple like that detonates with a ground shaking thud.

And all of a sudden, its fellows follow suite.

One after another, each caught in the ensuing explosion of the first, until the patch of battlefield is filled with their light, globs of Void bouncing around before shattering against the deck.

The Knight pauses mid-run, seeing its troops brought down by black holes from nowhere. It's swiftly brought down by a hail of gunfire, and finished by an arrow to the face.

She breathes deep, the breath catching as she takes in oil and the rain, of the Tower and the world they call home.

"Holy cow."

"Yeah, not bad, not bad." She feels Giddeon's smile as she nuzzles against the Shipwright's cheek. "Nice shot, Sweet Pea."

The warmth leaves her back, and a piercing whistle splits the quiet. The Guardians below look up from their search for their mystery helper, to see Gideon pointing at her, a thumb up.

The Warlock bows in thanks. The Titan shoulders his mini gun, two fingers to the temple in salute. It feels nice to be appreciated.

"We'll make a Guardian of you yet, Miss Holliday."

She laughs at the thought. "A Guardian? Nah, that's all you, Big Shot. Can't fix your ships if I'm out savin' the galaxy, right?"

A short laugh, enough to send a secret thrill down her spine. "It's got a few more advantages than that. Immortality, power of the Light, good healthcare…"

"Got some disadvantages too though, like forgettin' everythin' about your past life? " She feels bolder, stepping up into Sarah's personal space, grinning upward, nose to nose. "And who would want to forget a girl like you, Giddeon?"

One blink, two, three. Eyebrows rise, sheened in rainwater, and a smile spreads as the gaze holds.

She can feel cold breath against her lips, and her bravery vanishes, looking down at the Lance even as her feet refuse to move.

"S-so, this gun. Are you going to tell them?"

She watches gloved hands ghost over hers and the rifle she holds in them, and she isn't sure what she'll do if this goes much further.

"Yeah, definitely."

"When?"

"Iron Banner."

She looks up, eyes wide, and catches sight of Sarah's dangerous grin.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mindless Destiny-themed fluff today. Hope that's okay.
> 
> I don't know if it's cliche, but the Graviton Lance is still one of my favorite guns in the game. It's just fun to fire a single shot and watch a room clear itself, you know?
> 
> As a side note, I know the lore this chapter was based on mentions the Crucible rather than Iron Banner, but I felt this fit more with the character. I don't really play the Crucible unless there's a quest objective that needs completing, but I do find something fun about Iron Banner. In-Universe, I think it would be that Sarah doesn't fight in the Crucible because she doesn't like dying, but she takes part in the Iron Banner out of respect to Saladin.


	8. EIGHT

**EIGHT**

It hits her one night, like a freight train to the heart. Out of the blue, no warning. A realization that thrills and scares her, causing her world to just stop.

She blames it on  _them_. The Guardians from before. The Warlock and her Titan friend.

Ashara Delainn and Richard Leonhardt, she'd learned later. An Awoken Stormcaller and Human Sentinel, formerly. Already an odd pair, but very rarely are they seen apart. Especially after the evacuation. Practically inseparable.

Most don't understand it. Even beyond their classes, there's just so many differences.

She's a beauty, dark haired and golden eyed. He's somewhat plain, mousey mop of hair and watery eyes to go with a shaky smile. She's graceful yet deadly, her skill with a bow making up for her lack of Light. He's more brute force, a Gatling mini gun his weapon of choice with an Actium War Rig keeping his bullets stocked. She likes to read, by herself in the corner. He likes to tell stories, loudly to an enraptured crowd after dinner. She doesn't talk much. He doesn't shut up.

And yet, as far as she can see, Ashara only smiles when Richard is in view.

It's a subtle thing, something she's only really noticed since Sarah took off for Io to find Ikora.

She must be really bored, if noticing another woman smile at a man that's not hers is the most interesting part of her day. It surprises her that she notices it at all. Just a slight tug at the corner of the Awoken's lips from behind her book, maybe a slight toe tap when he builds a trombone of all things out of holographic light (somehow) to play some long forgotten yet upbeat song.

It's other little things too, not just from Delainn. When they walk, they walk close. On patrol, they move in sync. They eat their rations together, and more than once she's seen them sleeping in the corner of the communal rooms, Ashara's head against the Titan's shoulder, Richard snoring softly into the Warlocks hair.

It looks…nice. A warm relationship, equal on both sides. No secrets, minor arguments, the kind that can always be forgiven.

And when the Warlock kisses the Titan, the Shipwright watching them can't find it in herself to be surprised.

It follows Sarah's report: Incoming from Io, Ikora not far behind. It's a good sign, as hope swells across the fleet.

Zavala sends everyone's favorite Shipwright to the landing pads to deliver the news there: The Vanguard are back. Ready the ships, we're heading home.

A cheer goes up, like a rallying cry. Back to Earth, to the Last City! To push back the Red Legion and take back our world!

And in the center of the sudden celebration, Ashara Delainn kisses Richard Leonhardt.

She's not sure why she notices. She's not even sure what spurs the moment. The energy of those around them, the thought of taking the fight back to the Cabal…in the end, it doesn't matter.

As people cheer, Ashara turns to her partner, the biggest smile on her face. Arms snake up around his neck to pull him down to her, and he draws her close as eyes close and lips meet as naturally as breathing.

When they break, there is nothing but laughs and smiles. It's a picture that sticks with the Shipwright that saw them, and stays with her into the night.

For hours, she's not sure why. It's just a kiss, between two Guardians she doesn't know that well. Maybe it was spontaneous, maybe they've been dating for a while and told no one. It's none of her business, so why is it all she can think about?

When it hits her, it hits her hard.

She wants what they have.

Not with Ashara or Richard, but…she wants that kind of…thing. A good relationship, equal and close. Someone she can talk to, care about, fight for.

Someone like-

…

That was the moment. Eyes widen, breath hitches. Her heart seems to catch, and suddenly all of Titan goes silent.

Sarah. She wants that kind of relationship with Sarah.

"Oh…shoot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashara and Richard are my Warlock and Titan characters respectfully. I don't really play as them much, I just find the Hunter mindset too much fun.
> 
> They're loosely inspired by Blake Belladonna and Jaune Arc from RWBY, and yes I enjoy that pairing in that franchise too. I enjoy unusual pairings, even if I know they'll probably never be canon. I'm not sure why.
> 
> The trombone is a nod to the emote, but I'm not sure if those things are supposed to be made of Light or holograms. Maybe it's just funny to think about how Richard does it? YOU BE THE JUDGE!


	9. NINE

**NINE**

When Ikora returns, things really start to get moving.

Weapons are packed, ammunition stored, last minute tune-ups are completed and the fleet readies itself to return home.

The Guardians are going to war.

She's busying herself with her own jumpship when the call comes in. Giddeon and Ikora are planet-side. The fleet will move out by the end of the day. Stealth is the objective of the day, but with the Legion's Earth-side forces almost entirely focused on the Last City, it shouldn't be too hard to sneak what they need to the place Sarah calls the Farm, deep in the European Dead Zone.

A part of her wants to go, to find Sarah and…she's not sure what. That insecurity keeps her anchored under the port thruster manifold, just as it's been keeping her awake these last few nights.

It's not love. She's sure of that. This isn't some fairytale romance novel like those books Cayde swears he never reads and definitely aren't his but give them to him anyway he's sure he can find their owner for her, no trouble. It's only recently that she's really talked with the Hunter. Love takes more than that, right? It takes work to make it work, and a warzone isn't exactly a good place to be swept off your feet.

But that brings her to another thing she's sure about. She wants to try.

When the war's over, she's going to ask. Nothing fancy, no photo moment. Just the two of them, Sarah and Amanda, and a question: Are you free next weekend? She's thinking drinks to celebrate the end of the war, as thanks for saving everyone's hides. Just a start, it won't even be a date, if it doesn't have to be.

But she's lying to herself if she isn't all kinds of hopeful…

"I'm saying it can't be done!"

"No, you're  _saying_ you've never tried."

Familiar voices, familiar footsteps. Both bring daydreams to a grinding halt as they bring the real life subject closer to her jumpship.

One voice makes her heart catch. The other is EyeBall.

And he doesn't sound happy.

"No, I mean it  _really_  can't be done." Boots scrape against concrete, just outside the open hatch, no doubt as a Ghost flies up to his Guardian's face, trying to make her see sense. "I'm  _your_  Ghost. I can't just be traded to someone else, that's not how it works!"

She presses herself deeper into the engine compartment, hidden from view by all but the most detailed of searches. Sarah sounds…annoyed? Angry? It scares her that she can't really tell.

"It's not a trade, It's a…a temporary reassignment. You hang around, and if something happens, resurrection. What's the problem?"

"That I'm  _your_  Ghost!" If he had hair, EyeBall would be tearing it out. "If we could just resurrect anyone, don't you think we'd be pushed into medical centers or hoarded by nobility? It's one Ghost, to one Guardian. That's all there is to it."

"And yet, it isn't." The footsteps start walking again. "You can do more good here then you can with me, EeeBee. You've just got to believe in your-glurk!"

She barely catches sight of Gideon through the rear hatch before she's abruptly dragged back out of sight, her Ghost clamping the hood of her cloak between the joins of his ring.

"This isn't about helping people and you know it! You can't lie to me, even if you're lying to yourself! This is about Amanda!"

Eyes widen, her heart seems to stop. Her hands clamp over her mouth to stop her gasping, even though she's forgotten how to breathe.

"Of  _course_  it's about Amanda," Giddeon is quiet, almost sulky. "Just thought you wouldn't figure that part out, that's all."

"Sarah…"

Look, I'm not asking for the Moon here, EeeBee! You just have to keep her safe!"

"And I'm telling you I can't!"

"Then find me a Ghost who can! There's got to thousands of you flying around!"

"It doesn't work the way!"

"Why not!?" A boot kicks a crate, a hand swats at EyeBall, the Ghost dodging into view. Giddeon follows, fists balled. "Why can't you keep her safe!? She's smart, she's gifted! She can put a jumpship back together with her bare hands! She's worth saving!"

"But that isn't why you want to save her, is it!?"

"OF COURSE IT ISN'T! I…"

Silence. She dares to peek out from her hiding place.

Sarah stands, framed by floodlights from the rig across from the launch pads. Head bowed, a gloved hand across her face.

EyeBall hovers nearby, as close to his Guardian as he dares.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," he tries, awkwardly.

"Of course she will." A fond smile peeks through parted fingers. "She got me to the flagship  _and_  got out of the Last City in one piece. She doesn't need me looking over her shoulder. I just…wanted to give her a safety net, that's all. A guarantee…that she'll be waiting for me when I get back." She eyes her Ghost, an eyebrow arched. "Sure you can't provide?"

"I can't."

"Can't find a friend to lend a hand?"

"I'm sorry…" EeeBee looks away, almost like he's ashamed. "It…it doesn't work that way."

"I guess if it did, there'd be a whole lot more Guardians around, right?" Giddeon laughs, a sad sound as she pats her Ghost atop his ring. "Sorry for putting you through that, partner. Guess my wishful thinking got the better of me. Looks like Amanda's not here anyway. Probably for the best, she'd probably chew me out for trying to push you onto her like she needs a babysitter…"

Footsteps grow faint, conversation lost in the noise of preparations for war.

Sarah Giddeon leaves behind a Shipwright, hidden from view in the engine compartment. Eyes wide, heart pounding, hands cupped to her mouth…

And tears running freely down her cheeks.


	10. TEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload. I'm on holiday at the moment, and it just slipped my mind. My bad.

**TEN**

It's a while before she sees Giddeon again.

Everyone's busy, is the excuse she gives herself. Between shipping out from Titan and setting up shop at the Farm on Earth, there just hasn't been the time.

That's her story, and she's sticking to it.

Except now, time's running out.

A plan is in motion; desperate, possibly suicidal, the only chance they have. A full on assault on the Red Legion forces that occupy the Last City. No Light, no fancy moves or armies thousands strong.

Just people, and the guns they carry. Former Guardians and ordinary men and women, fighting to liberate their home.

But first, there's the  _Almighty_  to think about.

It's Giddeon's problem. With her Light, black hole firing rifle and ramshackle hand cannon that looks like it will fall apart at the worst possible moment, the Hunter is the best chance they have at stopping the star destroyer from ripping the Sun apart. It won't be long before an infiltration mission begins, deep in the EDZ.

A part of her wants to take Sarah to the drop-off point, to get her alone and…clear the air? She's not sure. She doesn't know what she wants.

It's out of her hands, anyway. She's doing her part, running transport and getting Giddeon the perfect tool to get herself inside the Legion base, minimum effort. She can't transport both Hunter and the machine that will aid her.

So, here it is. Her last chance. To do what, she's not sure yet.

When she finds her target, it quickly becomes biting down on the jealousy creeping up her spine.

She doesn't know Suraya Hawthorne. Not personally. Sarah's mentioned her a few times. Grumpy, wary of City folk, and a Guardian in all but Light and immortality. Without her and her Farm, who knows how many more would have been lost.

In other words, she's got more in common with certain Hunters than a Shipwright ever could.

It annoys her, how much she feels like she's been hiding recently. Unintentionally on Titan, slightly more intentionally on the way back to Earth. Now she was here, fiddling with nothing in particular near the stairs of some dilapidated barn, ignoring the odd looks from Shaxx and trying to watch the conversation on the walkway above as nonchalantly as possible.

The angry heat pooling in her stomach is making it hard.

It starts with a shotgun, field-forged and well used, passed back to its original owner.

Hawthorne stares at it, eyebrows raised. "You're giving it back?"

"It's a good gun," Giddeon smiles easily. "Got me through the EDZ and Titan. Had a bit of trouble with the Vex on Nessus, but when your targets keep exploding…" she shakes her head. "Anyway, figured you'd want it back. As proof I came back, if nothing else."

The wanderer takes the weapon with an odd look. "Well, what do you want me say? It's a gun. You kill bad guys with it. Although…" a look is cast across the Farm, over preparations, people and Tess Everis trying desperately to earn some Silver. "Gotta say, I really didn't think you'd come back from your interplanetary jaunt, much less with the Vanguard by your side." She flashes a quick smile. "Look at us. Red Legion doesn't stand a chance."

"Ain't that a truth." Sarah follows Suraya's gaze, but it feels…different. Distant. "I'll be heading out to the EDZ soon. Anything for Devrim? Well wishes, Gentlemen's shortbread, gas bills?"

"No, it's fine. Just…tell him to stay safe, alright? Not that he  _needs_ telling but…it'll make me feel better." Sarah's given a complicated look. "And…you stay safe too, you hear? You came back this time, so…how about you make a habit of that, okay?"

She decides to leave before she can hear Sarah's reply, a weight in her chest suddenly becoming too much to bare.

It's fine. All of it. Giddeon's allowed to have friends. They're not together. Even if they were, it would still be fine, right?

Right.

Her feet take her to her jumpship to pick something up, before she finds herself wandering the makeshift landing pads. Last minute checks, a few Guardians loading weapons and stocking ammo. In the shade of a tree, Richard Leonhardt sits watching the Shard of the Traveler, Ashara Delainn dozing content in his arms.

She walks away fast, blushing hard, sweet thoughts filling her head…before finding herself at the landing gear of a certain dilapidated Wanderwing, gazing up startled at the Hunter watching her from where she sits atop the thruster assembly.

Sarah smiles. "Took your time, didn't you?"

She ignores her rapid heart, grinning in challenge with cheeks flushed red. "Not the best place to sit, Big Shot. Unless you're tryin' to set your butt on fire, and that pretty little cape you're so proud of-."

Giddeon jumps, landing too close. She grins up at the Hunter, defiant, even as Sarah smiles dangerously down.

"It's a  _cloak_ , Sweet Pea. And it's flame retardant."

"So's my underwear, That don't mean I'm gonna light myself on fire to prove it."

Eyes flicker with…something. The smile softens, and she finds herself looking at her boots, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Shaxx said you were skulking around the barn, not too long ago." She looks up, alarmed. It frustrates her that Sarah tries not to laugh. "He's not sure why it was so important to you, but at least the railing doesn't squeak when you lean against it, right?"

She feels hot, caught in a spotlight. "I wasn't skulkin'!" It's a weak protest. "I was waitin'. For you." She looks away when Sarah's smile widens. "Didn't want to interrupt, don't look so deep into it."

Look deeper, she wants to say. Make this easier on both of us.

She steps back before Giddeon can snark a reply, holding the picked up thing in front of her from behind her back.

"I wanted you to take this."

It's the helmet. From the armory. A simple helmet, a large dark faceplate the only real thing of note. She's kept it so no one else will take it. Spare moments have been spent with it, checking it for damage, making sure it would fit her Hunter's head…

Her Hunter…who is now staring at it warily.

"Amanda-"

"I know you don't like it. I know it'll be…uncomfortable, I guess. But you're gonna be up in space, on a station so close to the sun you're gonna get tan no matter what you're wearin'." She gets a laugh, and she pushes on, even as her throat burns. "I know you've got your Light, and EyeBall's got your back, but…I just want some insurance, you know? I just want to know I did all I could to make sure you come back…"

Gloved hands ghost over hers, holding helmet and hands, together with a soft smile.

"Getting a mite mushy there, Sweet Pea."

She laughs, even as she starts to cry. "You're just a bad influence, Big Shot. I just want you to come back no crisper than when you left, is all."

Gloves are rough against her face, wiping tears away as lips turn down towards a frown.

"Come on, none of that. You don't want this getting too cliché, right?"

She manages a watery smile. "What's wrong with that?"

"It sets expectations. I mean, here we are, on the eve of battle, not sure what's going to happen tomorrow…" There's that look again. Complicated, distant. "It makes us think about things we want to say, or things we shouldn't say, because you don't want to make things awkward, especially if we both have to come back alive from this-."

"Things like what?"

The Hunter looks back, startled. "Hmn?"

She smiles, letting the helmet fall to the soft earth to cup the hand on her cheek.

"What do you think I'm gonna say, in this oh so cliché scene of yours? Stay safe? Don't die too many times, you'll wear your Ghost out?"

"I love you."

She smiles. She smiles so wide it hurts, her heart thrumming against her chest, her body lighter than air.

She smiles, even as she shakes her head.

"No. No, I don't love you, Giddeon." She pulls the stunned Hunter close before she can escape. Arms around her back, nose buried in her shoulder, letting the smells of oil and earth, of the Tower and the world they call home fill her senses.

"But I want to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah's helmet is an Iron Fellowship Casque. I think it, the gauntlets and the hand cannon are the only things I sill wear of the original outfit.
> 
> Two more chapters to go. I hope it's been an enjoyable read so far.


	11. ELEVEN

**ELEVEN**

Sarah had worn the helmet. Locked into place, hood pulled up and over.

" _We need to talk more, Miss Holliday."_

Her last words, before she enters the Wanderwing and engines fly her away from the Shipwright whose forehead she kissed with a smile. The moment is captured in her mind; picture perfect and crystal clear.

It makes her smile, even as she flies into battle once more.

Her first role is easy: delivery girl. Sarah's excited squeals of delight are worth the earache as she drops a tank before her favorite Hunter, like a kid at Dawning. She smiles fondly at the giggling that intermingles with target lock-ons and the heavy thump of cannon fire.

It makes her look forward to her next role: fire support.

Anti-aircraft guns down, the warship they protected downed by a few heavy shells down the tailpipe. She listens to Sarah's progress; tearing through Cabal forces with hand cannon roaring and Graviton Lance reducing centurions to atoms. She pushes her jumpship onwards, the warship in sight, skimming its crimson side towards the open hanger, weapons ready…

In time to watch her Hunter dance across the the battlefield.

No one can touch her. Ducks and weaves through gunfire and flame, hand cannon barks, falling legionaries with its bite. A knife is thrown, felling a Psion from the walkway then taking out its fellows below with an explosion of heat and bits of head.

Centurions lumbered in, slug rifles ready, shields blazing red…

And cut down quick by a jumpship's guns.

"Someone order backup? Ha ha! You better run!"

Pinned together, heavy cannon fire steering Legion forces into bullets and bullet sized black holes. The hanger is in chaos, Cabal guns pointed in all directions, trying to gain the upper hand.

She won't let them have it.

"Don't leave the door open if you don't want me comin' in!"

" _My, my. So_ forward,  _Miss Holliday. And here I was thinking you wanted to take things slow."_

She grins, even as she flushes red and the last Phalanx falls to her gunfire. "Stow it, Giddeon! I've done my part. Now go take care of Thumos for us."

She watches the Hunter as Sarah heads for the exit. Hands clench tight around control sticks, a weight in her gut, like she might not see her again.

" _Talk to me, Amanda."_

She can't, her throat closed up and burning. Sarah stands, waiting. Somehow, she knows there's a smile just for her beneath that mask.

She forces a watery smile of her own to her face, forces her mouth to open and words to form.

"Are…are you free this weekend? I'm thinkin' drinks to celebrate the end of the war, as thanks for saving everyone's hides?"

A pause. The Hunter stares.

Then, a warm laugh fills her cockpit. It lightens the weight, the smile more natural as Sarah blows a kiss and disappears into the depth of the ship.

" _Until then, Sweet Pea."_

…

"Was that a yes?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just more mindless fluff today. Wrapping things next week, so I hope it's worth the wait.


	12. TWELVE

**TWELVE**

Ghaul is dead. The Red Legion has been driven from the city.

And now, shining like a beacon, the Traveler has awoken.

She should be thrilled. The rest of the Last City certainly is. She can't turn a corner without running into a celebration; music, food good and bad, Guardians, their Light returned, dancing in the oddest of places.

But she can't find Sarah.

She knows her Hunter survived, coming back into town with the Red Legion's flagship as her prize. The city had flocked to her, their liberator. A chance to see Giddeon, shout her praise, maybe shake her hand if they were lucky. A sea of Humans, Awoken and Exos standing between her and the Shipwright she wants to see.

At least…she  _hopes_ she wants to see.

The absence makes her worry. No sightings at the celebrations, no messages of where to meet and when. Sarah Giddeon has gone completely off the map, and not even the Vanguard knows where she is.

So, she does what anyone does when looking for a Hunter who doesn't want to be found. Look in the last place she'd think to check.

In the shadow of the ruined Tower, the Vanguard have planted their flag. An open courtyard, close to the hangers and a stone's throw from a decent market. To be closer to the people as we rebuild, so Zavala says.

Where better to hide then right under the Vanguards' nose?

EyeBall sees her first, his optic a dull glow from a balcony above the walkway leading to the market. He disappears into light as she climbs the steps, leaving her alone with his Hunter, brooding in a dark corner.

Sarah is quiet, sitting as only a Hunter can. Knees tucked up, arms loose around them. Her hair is loose from her bun, falling around her shoulders in a messy blonde wave. Her helmet sits beside her, visor staring out at nothing in particular.

Much like its' owner.

"Hey there, Big Shot." Blue meets green, and she manages a small smile at Giddeon's surprise. "You free for that drink yet or what?"

It gets her a smile, one that grows slightly when the she holds up a bottle in each hand. The Hunter pats the ground beside her, not saying a word until a Shipwright sits beside her.

"Busy day, huh?"

"Somethin' like that." She hands a bottle over. "How was the Sun?"

"Hot. How was your day on the town?"

"Less hot. More Cabal then I would've liked."

"We've all had days like that, Sweet Pea." Sarah takes a swig, then pulls a face. "This is awful."

"Well, no one said Executor Hideo had good taste." She drinks her own, grimacing at the sickly sweet liquid, followed by the heat of heavy alcohol in her system. "Kinda hard to turn down a free drink though, after a day like today."

"Hmn…" It's a noncommittal noise, quiet at the back of Giddeon's throat.

It worries her.

She doesn't want to ask what's wrong. It doesn't feel enough.

"I-"

Warmth envelopes her…again. Sarah's arm drapes around her shoulders, pulling her cloak around them both and pulling a flushing Shipwright to a Hunter's side. Armor is cold, but heat pools in her stomach.

Sarah doesn't hold her gaze. Eyes are ahead, focused on nothing in particular.

"A lot of people died today." The voice is quiet, a slight shake plaguing the words. "I died today, just a few times. I'm the only one who came back, though, but…the way people talk, you'd think I'd saved their asses all by my lonesome."

"You got Ghaul-"

"The  _Traveler_ got Ghaul," Sarah laughs bitterly. "Centuries of getting the crap beaten out of us and all it took was an immortal rhino to get the beach ball from outer space to wake up from his nap." She shakes her head, blonde locks ghosting against her cheek. "I don't care about that. Not really. I just…don't get why it was me. There were better people for the job. Cayde, Ikora, Girl's Name. Hell, at least Cayde had a plan."

"He wanted use a Vex teleporter to put a bullet in Ghaul's skull."

"And then eat a sandwich. Better plan then I had. One we went with too, if you think about it."

She stares, incredulous. "Is  _that_ what's got you bummed? It wasn't your plan?"

"Nooooo…." Blue meets green, silently judging. "…maybe. I just…better Hunters, better  _Guardians_ than me died today. They're not coming back; they never had the chance to. All I did, anyone else could have done. I just don't get why I got the visions. Why I got my Light back…"

The Guardian's words fade away, as she feels a Shipwright's fingers intertwine with a Hunter's hand.

She's nervous, heart beating heavy, face flush from a heat that has nothing to do with the cloak or arm around her shoulders. She leans into Sarah's embrace, arm over her stomach, head tucked beneath her chin.

"I'm glad he chose you. I'm glad you came back."

Ear pressed to chest plate, she swears she can hear Sarah's heartbeat beating rapidly against ribs. The Hunter shifts, pulling her Shipwright into a more comfortable embrace, sickly sweet wine forgotten.

She feels self-conscious. She hasn't showered since before the attack. She probably smells of sweat and fear and battle.

She feels Sarah's nose in her hair, breathing deep.

"I'm just glad I found you, Sweet Pea."

Maybe it's the words. Maybe it's the wine. Maybe it's the fact they've survived a bloody war together. She presses herself tighter, relishing the heat of body and cloak. It hits her again, as it has so many times before.

She desperately wants to love this woman.

"We need to talk more, Miss Giddeon."

"No, we don't. If anything, I think we should talk less."

Panic. Fear. Her heart clenches tight. She looks up, afraid that she's said the wrong thing and everything is crashing down with those warm feelings…

Only to realize she's been tricked in the most wonderful of ways.

Warm lips, breath cool in her throat, the taste of wine hazing into a flood of other feelings that heats her to her core.

She accepts it, mouth parting, hands reaching up to sift through long blonde hairs.

Eyes drift shut. In self-made darkness she moves up and into Sarah's lap, straddling her waist. The cloak falls away as gloved hands settle on her waist, but she doesn't feel a chill. She doesn't really feel anything,  _hear_  anything. Nerves aflame, heartbeat drumming in her ears, shivers of pleasure running down her spine.

The need for air breaks them apart, foreheads resting, sight enveloped by eyes of green.

Sarah watches her, silent, smiling, cheeks flushed red.

She looks so smug. The Shipwright in her arms crushes her lips against hers before she can snark.

Darn this girl. Loving her is way too easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go. That's all he wrote.
> 
> And I think this is a good place to stop, at least for now. I may update this with a chapter ever so often if the inspiration hits me, but keep in mind that any updates from here on out will be as and when they're finished.
> 
> And that is also to say that this might be the last chapter, period. I'm just not sure at the moment (In a bit of a Destiny lull at the moment. I'm a solo player, so I didn't really get the most out of the Annual Pass stuff.)
> 
> But thank you for reading this fic. I hope it was a good read.


End file.
